


il primo

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, Birthday, F/M, Romance, bedannibalprompts, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:19:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Bedelia is not fond of celebrating her birthday, Hannibal proposes an alternative plan for the evening.





	il primo

She had never been fond of that day. Perhaps if it had been celebrated differently when she was a child, she would have thought otherwise, but Bedelia doubts that. Her birthdays were nothing more than a collection of expensive gifts and cheerless faces. She tried to avoid them early on, making good use of a nonsensical social convention and claiming to be too old for such celebrations.

Then each year she was faced with an uncomfortable phone call from her parents; her mother’s tense voice, not even pretending to sound happy and her father’s surprisingly warm one, as he wished her another great year. Her sister opted for sending her a card, usually made by her kids; it was intended to look cute. It didn’t.

Bedelia made sure not to share the date of her birthday with other people as to avoid any awkward interactions. But then, of course, there was one person who had managed to obtain that information. Every year since they had known each other, a bouquet of white roses had been delivered to her door on her birthday. Always at the same hour, always the same flowers and no card. There was no doubt about the identity of her secret admirer, but none of them ever mentioned it. Just another pawn in their elaborate game.

She wished she could forget the day herself, but like a strange muscle memory, she felt it coming. Normally she would merely sweep the thought away, but she was not in Baltimore anymore.

 

The first rays of the morning sun stretched their fingers through the window of their Florentine bedroom and Bedelia wakes up abruptly as if sensing a dread coming. The delicious smell of coffee slips through the haze in her mind and she opens her eyes, last remnants of her dreams disappearing as she takes in her usual surroundings. The bedroom is empty, save for the tray on her nightstand. A cup of cappuccino and a single rose. This one is red. The feeling of apprehension lights up within her.

He remembered.

Hannibal joins her as she is finishing her coffee, a smile on his lips, gently kissing her temple.

“Am I to be expecting the rest of the bouquet later?” Bedelia decides a pre-emptive strike would be the best option.

“The bouquet?” Hannibal opts for charming ignorance.

“Yes,” she presses on,” like the one you sent me every year.”

“I am sure you have received many of them.”

“No, I have not,” her eyes stare at him sharply, “Yours were the only ones.” She is not in the mood for their game. Not today.

“I am sorry to hear that,” sudden spark of anger in his own eyes. He looks determined enough to cross the ocean with the sole purpose of punishing those who failed to recall her birthday. It is strangely appealing.

“I have kept my birthday private,” she touches his hand and his gaze softens.

“Oh,” he falls silent.

Bedelia hopes that it is the end of that discussion, but knows it is unlikely Hannibal would stray from whatever elaborate plan he had devised. She is half expecting to find the living room filed with balloons or some other decor, but luckily Hannibal is above such ostentatious items. At least, she hopes he is.

“I looked forward to celebrating your day with you,” he says softly, his fingers brushing the hair behind her ear.

“This day has no sentimental value to me,” Bedelia responds firmly, ignoring his gentle touch.

Hannibal is quiet once more as his mind contemplates her words.

“Perhaps we can do something else this evening,” a new spark in his eyes,” A date.”

“Date?” she turns her head to meet his eyes in disbelief, “It seems a tad reduntant, don’t you think?” They currently find themselves half naked in bed.

“A first date, to be exact,” his enthusiasm shines on as he shifts closer to embrace her,” I have always wanted to take you out on a date, but had never gotten a chance.”

Bedelia would have lied if she said that she hadn’t been curious about it too. This is a game she would like to play.

“All right,” she agrees, giving him a smile.

“Excellent,” Hannibal beams with anticipation, “Is 7 pm all right?” And without further explanation, he kisses her goodbye and leaves the bedroom to dress for work.

 

Bedelia spends her morning enjoying a walk around town and her afternoon, getting ready for her “date”. The preparations distract her from contemplating her birthday and she is grateful for the distraction.

She browses through her closet and chooses a dress hidden at its back, one that Hannibal had not seen before. She had purchased it some time ago and was waiting for a special occasion to display it. No better occasion than a first date, she concludes with a smile, slipping the dress on. It is a deep red gown with a halter neck in the front and bare to just below the waist in the back. Bedelia appraises herself in the mirror, pleased with the view.

She considers pinning her hair up, but decides against it, letting it fall softly between her shoulder blades. Hannibal has a weak spot for her locks after all. The pair of simple diamond studs completes the outfit; the most recent gift he had presented her with. She would be annoyed with his constant offerings if his taste wasn’t so flawless and his intentions so sincere.

The bells of the Duomo announce six in the afternoon and she expects Hannibal to walk through the door any minute now, returning from work as usual. Yet he doesn’t; Bedelia wonders if something had happened. But before the panic sets fully within her mind, she hears a knock on the door. She glimpses at the clock, it is precisely 7 pm.

Confounded, she opens the door and finds Hannibal, dressed in a black tuxedo with a matching bow tie. A smile on his face, no doubt he expected her to be surprised, but once his eyes rest on her, it is his turn to be stunned. His pupils widen with desire, darkening his gaze and Bedelia smiles. The evening is off to a great start.

“Good evening, Doctor,” Hannibal says, but makes no move to come inside, “You look ravishing tonight.”

It seems he intends to keep the pretence of a real first date.

“Hello Hannibal, thank you,” Bedelia replies, closing the door behind her. She is more than happy to play along.

He offers her his arm and they walk down the stairs together. There is a car waiting for them downstairs; Hannibal is sparing no expenses.

“Would you really hire a car for our first date?” Bedelia asks with scepticism.

“I would have engaged a driver for the evening,” Hannibal replies, opening the back door,” So I could sit with you together in the back.” He extends his hand to her and Bedelia gets in the car.

“Where are we going?” she remains intrigued by the premise of this evening.

“The opera,” Hannibal looks at her with a pleased smile.

“So, you would rely on other people to keep me entertained on our first date,” she says with a daring stare.

He says nothing, but holds her gaze, ready to meet her challenge.

 

They remain unusually silent for the rest of the journey. Finally, the car stops in a small street, in front of the plain looking façade which holds the historical Teatro della Pergola. The posters up front announce a one-night only show of Mozart’s “Il re pastore”.

The theatre attendant shows them to their seats, a private box for them alone; Bedelia expected nothing less. Before the man leaves, Hannibal exchanges a few words with him, his Italian too quick for Bedelia to grasp the content. She turns to take in the view from the balcony. The opera house is not big, but its interiors are impressive; the red velvet and crystal chandeliers holding the same splendour as they did hundreds of years ago.

The attendant returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Bedelia expects one of Hannibal’s favoured Tuscan reds, but, to her surprise, it is French.

“Chateau Canon-la-Gaffelière,” she reads the label when the man puts down the bottle.

“Yes,” Hannibal confirms with a spark in his eyes, “One of your favourites, am I correct?”

“You are correct,” she replies reluctantly, “But you couldn’t possible have known that back in Baltimore.”

“I would have made sure to find out,” he says with serious conviction and Bedelia does not doubt it. Hannibal had been known to go to great lengths to impress her and would not let an opportunity like this go to waste.

He pours her a glass and Bedelia admires the deep ruby colour, matching the red of her dress and catching the specks of the light reflected through the crystals. It has been a while since she had tasted that specific vintage and it is as perfect as she remembered; red plums and cassis entwined with savoury spices.

She does not get a chance to question him further, as the lights dim and the orchestra begins to play. The curtain rises and the actors take to the stage, but something seems amiss. The darkness of the theatre is usually Hannibal’s invitation to wrap his arm around her waist and tease her neck with his lips, but now he sits quietly, watching the show. Bedelia would reproach him for these blatant displays, but now she feels the loss of it.

Still, she agreed to a premise of a first date; she turns her attention to the stage as well, ignoring her pestering wants.

 

“Interesting choice of an opera,” Bedelia comments during the intermission as Hannibal pours her another glass of wine.

“Are you not enjoying it?” he asks, all of a sudden alarmed.

“No, I am. It’s wonderful,” she replies truthfully, “The first soprano is particularly captivating.”

Hannibal smiles with relief.

“I was referring to the subject,” Bedelia continues, looking at him as she takes a sip of her wine.

“A triumph of love over politics. A universal topic for all times and ages,” he explains excitedly as the third bell rings, announcing the beginning of the second act.

As the story moves towards its anticipated happy conclusion, Bedelia ponders what a hopeless romantic Hannibal can be. It was one of his most startling characteristics that she discovered during their sessions. She wonders if it would surprise her on their first night out. The only thing that surprises her now is how fond she has grown of it.

 

The show ends with a grand applause and Hannibal escorts Bedelia back to the car, already awaiting them on the street.

“What next?” she questions him as they once again drive through the streets of Florence.

“Another drink perhaps, but since it is a _special occasion_ , I thought a dessert is in order,” he explains and Bedelia gives him a disapproving look at the mention of the word “occasion”, but says nothing, curious of what he had prepared.

The car pulls at the gate of the Palazzo Capponi. Hannibal gets out first, his hand at ready and Bedelia follows. He leads her through the gate towards the garden in the back. The security guard offers them a warm smile as they pass his station, no doubt expecting them.

Bedelia had visited the garden before, but had never witnessed such an arrangement; a small table set up in the middle, with candles, a bottle of wine and a vase full of roses. The arches surrounding the garden are decorated with twinkling fairy lights. Bedelia thinks with amusement of the assistant or student who was untrusted with this unusual task and submitted to Hannibal’s scrutiny.

“It appears I have found the missing part of my birthday bouquet,” Bedelia comments, stepping closer to the table, “They are beautiful.”

“I do not know what you mean,” Hannibal plays his charm card once more, “I am allowed to bring you flowers on our date.”

The bunch is much bigger than the ones she received before; all deep red, luscious roses in full bloom. Bedelia’s cheeks feel warm as if she was about to blush red herself.

“Thank you. I have always looked forward to your flowers,” she remarks suddenly with unexpected honesty.

“I would have never forgotten your day,” Hannibal reassures her.

“I believe you have promised me a dessert,” she changes the subject before the sensations take over her in full.

Hannibal nods his head and walks away toward the building, leaving Bedelia alone. Her fingertips softly trace the rose petals as she stares at the bouquet. It is not like her to get emotional over flowers or even less so, her birthday; she knows the true sentiment, one she cannot control, lies with the man responsible for this evening.

Hannibal returns with a plate and Bedelia is presented with an elegant white chocolate and cocoa pastry tart with a fragrant, vanilla glazed persimmon on top of it. The sprinkle of pistachios finishes the picture. A single lit candle sits in the middle of the fruit. Bedelia would be upset with this blatant birthday motive, but she is taken by the fact that he was prepared to ruin his creation for her.

“Make a wish,” Hannibal whispers, placing the plate in front of her.

She blows the candle and smiles. There is nothing more she could have wished for.

Hannibal sits next to her as she takes the fork and cuts through the fruit and pastry. She takes a slow bite, savouring the dessert. The rich cream filling melts on her tongue and chocolate has never tasted better. She hums in delight.

“Would you try to sneak a kiss or a touch on our first date?” she asks upon finishing, dabbing her lips.

“I would ask you to dance,” Hannibal replies, still staring with great pleasure at her enjoying her treat.

“Why don’t you then?” she looks at him with expectation.

Hannibal does not need to be told twice; he rises immediately and offers his hand.

He leads her away from the table, to the front of the garden. He extends his left arm, placing his right hand on her back. The touch of his skin against hers is familiar and his grip steady as he leads her effortlessly, as he always had. She feels so comfortable in his embrace and wonders what would she experience if this indeed was their first date. Bedelia tries to remember the first time they had danced, but fails; it seems like times when he was not holding her in his arms did not exist.

They move in perfect unison and need no music to help them along. Still he makes no attempt to hold her closer and Bedelia cannot resist it any longer. Her hand moves to his neck and her head rests against his cheek. Their dance slows down as she presses herself against him.

“That is against the rules of the evening, Doctor,” Hannibal says, but she can feel him smiling and his arm wraps around her waist.

Her only reply is to kiss him; she tastes the wine on his skin, blending with a relish of chocolate lingering on her tongue, a surprisingly pleasant mixture. Or perhaps it is just the allure of his lips.

“I can do whatever I want,” her whisper drips with desire,” It’s my birthday.”

Hannibal’s smile widens against her lips.

“What would you like to do then?” he asks and kisses her back intensely, starved for the taste of her, making her realise how much restrain it took for him not to do so through the course of the evening.

“Take me home and I will show you,” Bedelia murmurs between the kisses that leave her breathless and yearning for more.

“Anything you desire,” Hannibal responds with all earnestly.  

Bedelia knows it is a promise not just for today, but for always.

**Author's Note:**

> There is another, modern opera house in Florence, which would host most of the performances nowadays, but it is a disappointingly mundane building, definitely not bedannibal standards and aesthetics.  
> I have already written a romantic bedannibal dinner fic, so I decided to do something else. I am sure Hannibal has an endless repertoire of romantic gestures for Bedelia, especially on her birthday!  
> Feedback is love.


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